


Voice of Heaven

by craple



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The way he whispers her name is everything but innocent.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice of Heaven

“ _Kanaya_.”

She remembers the first time he called her by her name— _truly_ said it with a firm yet soft voice, with a hint of amusement and seriousness and something she could not quite fathom. They were alone back then; with Karkat gone somewhere with Terezi, _convincing_ her as he said it, with what she wasn’t sure, and he was just _there_. She contemplated on leaving him alone, because he didn’t look like he was sober or stoned since she have never actually talked to him and knew him the way Karkat did, and to be honest, he kind of scared her for some unknown reason.

He called her then; firm and soft and amused and serious at the same time, her name rolled out of his tongue like the soft purr of a cat or the sharp hiss of a snake mixed in one perfect syllable. She had frozen like a statue at the sound of his voice, surprised to find it husky and deep and _beautiful_ ; more surprised when the hair on the back of her neck stood, her breath caught somewhere in her throat, the insides of her stomach did a painful flip that made her knees buckled, her muscles tensed, both her cheeks and her chest felt hot, and her heart hammered against her ribcage.

Before she could react, he was already there, _in front of her_ in a flash, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn-out jeans, his face just a few inches in front of her. She remembered—still is—how his breath was cool, ghosted against her skin as his eyes, dark amethyst stone in the middle of golden sea, bored into hers, staring deep into her soul. She felt naked under the intensity of his gaze alone. Her body trembled in anticipation of what he might do next, and although it was disappointing, she felt relief wash over her heart, because he didn’t… _touch_ her or _kill_ her like what her brain kept telling her since he said her name.

He smirked. Triumphant. Happy. Full of mischief. _Amused_.

And then he left her, confused and curious and _disappointed_ and… _craving_. She had no idea why she felt something like _that_ , but the cold, cold, _cold_ shower she took afterward made her feel better, but the curiosity hasn’t left her ever since.

“Kanaya.”

She whips her head at his direction in a flash; her finger presses firmly at the button of her chainsaw, switching it on, while her legs have moved into her usual fighting stance. Her body goes tense and rigid despite the determination in her eyes. She feels something claws at her from the inside, turning her skin into deep shade of green. It feels like her insides are burning, yet her flesh and everything about her are so overly cold at the same time, a contradictory that she assumes she will never understand.

Her ears pick something though. Something from the tone of his voice—husky, soft, sharp, _seductive_ , and annoyingly _amused_ —that suggests her he’s not here just to take pleasure from the way she reacts at him saying her name; _that_ or she is simply being paranoid at his presence. Gamzee smiles sweetly, and her stomach suddenly knots and twists and flips for no reason.

“What do you want?” Kanaya forces the words out of her lips, and regrets it. She sounds weak, with her voice light and shaking, close to whimpering, that for a second, she thinks she’s afraid of him.

 _(And perhaps she is.)_

He makes a sound between chuckling and sighing that sounds _so beautiful_ her heart skips a beat and her lungs stops working for a millisecond. The feelings she had when he first said her name were back when he moves—or more like _teleports_ —from where he was standing at, by the door of her bedroom, to her side. His left cheek touches with her right, his cool breath blows her black hair and her ear lobe, erupting goosebumps on her skin, and suddenly, his arms are wrapped around her waist.

She knows he’s smiling, somehow, or grinning, for she can feel the corner of his lips against her cheek. The fear disappears and she feels something, _something_ inside of her stirs when he whispers her name into her ear once more.

“ _Kanaya_ ,” he murmurs, pulling her body against his _ever so slightly_ , and finishes: “ _You’re so beautiful_.”

For the entire three minutes or less, she’s at loss of words. Her internal organs and her brain stop working at the same time, her muscles ache, and her breath catches once more. It takes her another two minutes before she regains her composure, and another one minute to fully realize that he’s already gone.

After that, every time he says her name, even when they’re not alone and everyone thinks it’s _innocent_ and _normal_ enough, she tries to not look at him in the eye and looks down on her shoes; praying that no one notices the way her skin burns even at the sound of his voice.

She decides she doesn’t like him very much.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaahh, I know. It sucks. Un-beta’d. It’s ugly. Be kind though.


End file.
